The Double Royale
by Jay Rease
Summary: Rachel Berry is always good at everything she sets her mind to.  That includes blow jobs.  Quinn Fabray is about to find out.  Girl!Peen.  PWP.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Double Royale

Author: J Rease

Rating: M/Obscene

Warnings: Shameless PWP, Faberry GIRLPEEN.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Rachel Berry is always good at everything she sets her mind to. That includes blow jobs. Quinn Fabray is about to find out. Girl!Peen. PWP.

Author's Notes: I decided to take a day break from updates (writing three at the moment), and this little plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. It's a quick work up of some smut I had laying around in my head. All mistakes are mine. Please review!

There were a lot of different undergrounds to Lima, Ohio. Sandy Ryerson headed most of the illegal drug activity in the area. Rod Roddington was the originator of the District 13 Swingers Club near Main Street that store-fronted as a community center. Everyone knew that Patches, the homeless man in front of the seven eleven was a lookout for weekly dog fights in the basement. Even Sue Sylvester was known to have a hand in almost anything going on in the political arena. Everyone knew _everything_…even if it was supposed to be something kept secret. It was hard to stay invisible in such a small place. Hanging off the fringes of the middle class was nearly impossible.

Knowing all she knew; she quickly devised a plan to keep her business quiet, and hoped that she would have enough money to get out of Lima. Her eighteenth birthday signified her launch into freedom. Her Daddy had been sick for nearly a year. The cancer spread to parts of him the doctors wouldn't be able to get clean, and her other father went bankrupt trying to stave off death for as long as possible. She'd been frugal. She'd been selfish. She'd been ambitious and she'd been prepared for almost everything. But she wasn't prepared when her Daddy died with mumbles of love on his breath and apologies for bowing out early. Her senior year of high school flanked her with so many crippling disappointments that she woke daily with a constant feeling of dread knotted in her chest.

There was nothing left. She had her own meager savings, but everything else was gone. The life insurance left them enough pay outdated hospital bills and to make it through for a while without worrying, but college, her future, her plans— had been put on hold. She wasn't so sure about making it to New York anymore; and it wouldn't even be for a lack of talent. During her Daddy's illness she pushed most of her friends away. She was single right after her birthday, when the emotional baggage of her father's death was too heavy for Finn to handle on top of his own problems. She'd come to the conclusion that being with him was good practice for something that would be worth it with someone else later. She'd discovered so much about herself when she was with Finn. If she could be nostalgic about anything from that relationship, she could be reminiscent of that. And the one thing that she realized with Finn, that she realized later with Puck—

Was that she gave one amazing blow job.

She learned quickly. Anything could get Finn off, so after the breakup, she found Puck hurt and lonely after his separation with Lauren. Senior year was almost over, and she quickly propositioned him for a summer fling before classes started in the fall. He accepted, noting that they always had dangerous chemistry, and they had their first tryst sometime before finals. She explained to him that sex wouldn't be an option (she was still a virgin, thank goodness), and he was upset until she began pulling him from his jeans while they lay on his star wars sheets. By the time she'd spit residue of him out her mouth, she knew she was good. By the second time she blew him, she knew she could be _better_. After a few days of research in technique and planning and practice with a few thick phallic objects—she knew she could get Noah Puckerman to give her anything she asked for. She had so many mottos in life. But one that rang true with her current situation always resonated like church bells in her ears: _Always be the best at everything you attempt. _

The last time she gave Noah Puckerman a blow job, it was in the back of his pickup truck before he left for a full time job offer in Columbus. It was still the beginning of the summer, and she still had time to start making money doing something she'd gotten down to a science. She bribed Sandy Ryerson to spread the word. Most clients referred spread the word to their friends, and her secondary cell phone number, a Google Voice number to keep potential creeps at bay, was filled with aliases from some of the most prominent men in Lima.

Her alias was **BJ. Askew**, and the cards she had printed were ordered with a prepaid VISA card and sent to a P.O. Box she anonymously rented for two months at the post office. She hopped between the three motels in area, never the same rooms in a week, and a different motel each night. She parked her car in convenience store parking lots and in front of churches a few blocks away. The regulars got certain rooms, and she always got there early with her sunglasses on and hats that covered her face. There were rules to follow, of course. Thirty percent of her profits were scattered toward the hotel room costs, keeping her identity secret, and things she needed for what she did inside the dark sketchy motel rooms. The guys got instructions quickly when they dialed her number. They were told the rules in the husky, breathy voice she'd created for the girl she had to become a few hours every night.

They were to come to the room she texted at the time they agreed upon. They walked into the room, which was always empty, and she would wait in the bathroom (with her camera setup in the corner, set to night vision and linked to her laptop in the bathroom), and watch the man handcuff himself to the bar of the bed. She would come into the room, which was always dark with the curtains drawn, and ask him in BJ's voice what he wanted. There were three types of blow jobs. A _Regular_ only took ten minutes. A _Proper_ was a tricky fifteen. But for those of her clientele with stamina, and big wallets, she offered the _Royal_. It lasted a long half an hour, and every man who'd ever paid for one could guarantee that it was torture fit for a King. Her prices ranged between seventy five and three hundred respectively. And she would do no more than five per night, at least three nights a week. Her meager savings sprouted to a hefty nest egg quickly by midsummer. Alcohol was not allowed, and they had to come along. No one ever saw her face, and people didn't go looking gift horses in the mouth. She hadn't had trouble. Most of her customers could afford this type of addiction. Most of her customers were well to do, well respected men. They needed their privacy too. Her clientele was beneficial for her protection, and it was kept hush hush who was doing things like this in their neighborhood. No one realized that Rachel Berry was really BJ Askew, and she was leading the market in sexual solicitation right under everyone's noses. And she would be out of Lima in time to move into the dorms at NYU by fall (She had gotten in after all. It was just figuring out how to afford being there that was her problem). Maybe it would be a chapter she could add to her memoirs… she'll call it method acting.

Rarely did her routines change. She used to be shocked at who would walk into her motel rooms at night. But when BJ's voice clouded over her normal one, no one could tell who she was. No one's curiosity ever peaked in recognition. The rooms were always dark enough for silhouettes and she never agreed to meet with anyone that was too dangerous a conflict. When certain police officers came to meet her, she quickly quelled any police investigations. When Principle Figgins came in, she kept it quick and professional. When she agreed to meet with Mr. Schuester, who still hadn't sealed the deal with Miss Pilsbury, she took delight, and later disappointment, in the half hour she'd spent with a former high school crush. When David Karofsky called her phone, she had to bite back the bile that climbed up her throat. She remembered finding out how much he'd worked for his tolerance and how he'd earned his forgiveness from Kurt. She reluctantly agreed when she heard how broken he'd sounded, and even rubbed his back when he cried about his impotence. He paid her anyway. She was rarely surprised at who would pay for a blow job in this town anymore. But this time would prove to shock her in ways she hadn't expected.

She voice verifies all of her appointments. When she got a text from an app generated number, she ignored it. The proposition was handsome. One hour for seven hundred. She'd only gotten a Double Royal once, from a nice visiting marine. He was handsome, and he got through most of it without problem. And paid her for the extra twenty minutes he hadn't used. No one usually lasted the entire time with her. Some could get it up again with minutes left over. Everyone knew she was worth every penny. She did her job well. But the anonymous text messages became frequent. She finally asked for voice verification and received a quick, "No one can know about this," via text. Her curiosity won out over the possibility being outed and she gave instructions through text. The customer was on time. They walked into the unlocked motel room and locked the door behind them. She sat down and looked at her laptop as they found the bed in the dark and clicked their wrist into the handcuff on the bed rail, pulling it for verification. Whoever he was, he was wearing a hoodie, and he refused to take it off. After a few minutes of waiting, he pulled it back to reveal short blonde hair. For the first time since she started this entire thing— she was very much flabbergasted.

Quinn Fabray was handcuffed to the bed. She immediately thought that she was caught. That somehow the blonde had concerned herself with her business and she'd have to close shop just when she was getting lucrative. And she didn't know how she should proceed. She took a deep breath, closed her laptop and unlocked the bathroom door. She strolled out and stood at the foot of the big bed and cleared her throat. BJ's voice was nothing like Rachel Berry's. It was low and husky and in a deeper octave than she normally spoke in. She breathed through her nose and she was sure Quinn couldn't see her in the darkness of the room.

"I don't do women, honey, maybe you'll have to find service somewhere else…"

She could only see the outlines of Quinn's body in the dark, but she could hear the clanging of the handcuff links hitting the bar of the bed as she moved around.

"I needed something private… and classy. And the girls you find over in Lima Heights talk too much. I may not look like I'm packing, darling, but I'm probably packing more than your reputation can handle."

There was an edge in Quinn's voice. It was arrogant and self-assuring, and she didn't know what to make of it. She couldn't tell if she would lose her resolve. But she simultaneously wanted to show the blonde all she could do with her mouth.

"Is that right? Aren't you that girl who got pregnant a while ago—"

Quinn chuckled.

"Don't you worry your pouty little lips about _that_. How about you come over here and put your face in my lap… you don't have to finger me… I'm just paying for this Royal treatment I've been hearing about."

She didn't try to hold back the gasp she was holding. She was intrigued. Quinn had a _penis_. Quinn had a penis and she wanted her to suck her off. She couldn't contain the giddiness pooling into her panties at that moment. She'd always been so curious about the blonde. Every time she thought she had her figured out, something new was added to the fray. She usually had to act with her customers. She had to put on that breathy bravado and she had to saunter and sway and she had to perform. She had to put on the show of her life as a necessity to her future. But this time she was actually going to **enjoy** it. She didn't know why it excited her so much. It excited her more knowing that Quinn wouldn't even know. She would never know that she probably spent all of her graduation money on a girl she probably despises. It made her damp with the possibilities. She had an hour with this girl, and she was going to earn every cent of her getaway money.

"How do you want it?"

"Show me how you got that reputation." It was rushed out in a gush of fluid words from a shaky throat. She could feel the excitement and the anticipation rolling in the air. She walked over to bed and sat beside the blonde. She pulled open the drawer she knew to be there and sat straight backed.

"Condoms only. I know nothing about your history, we keep it clean. You can pull my hair, but you can't pull it out. Ask for what you want if you're not pleased. _Though_, _I doubt you won't be anything other than completely satiated…_When the timer is up, your time is over. Make the best of it. I record these encounters until I'm sure you're out of the area. Leave the room, do not come back, and do not wait around. Leave the money on the dresser. If it's short, I will know who you are and I will make sure things get to people you don't want them to. When we are done I will tell you where to find the key. I will be locked in the bathroom. If anything gets dangerous, I will call for my security. You cannot touch me in any way that I do not initiate. I will not be propositioned for sex no matter how much you offer. No kissing anywhere. What sized condom?"

"Magnum." There was a cocky smirk to the sound around her words. Quinn was toying with the sheets that she'd put on the bed sometime earlier.

"Anything off limits?"

"Do _whatever_ you want to me."

She shut the drawer with a slam and pressed the button down on the timer on the bedside table. She tucked the condom in her bra and pushed Quinn's legs aside until she was fully between them. She kissed Quinn's neck, nipping and biting at the smooth expanses of skin. Quinn was keeping quiet, sometimes running her free hand through her hair or grazing her thumb over her plump lips. She began working her way down to the girl's jeans. She pulled the fly open with one hand, teasing over the cotton material of her briefs. She pulled them down with one finger, pulling out the soft member from its confines. In the dark all she had to go by was what she could feel. The skin was bare, smooth and thick underneath her buzzing nerve endings. She made work of pulling her pants down and off her toned legs, over the cowboy boots, and let them fall to the floor.

She stroked her up slowly, pacing herself against her building excitement. A finger dipped to where testicles should have been on the down stroke, delighted to find a damp slit. She bit her lip and quieted her curiosity. If only for a few moments. She was still stroking her, and Quinn was getting hard enough for a condom. She pulled it out of her bra and ripped it open with her teeth. She put the condom to her mouth and she pouted her lips against the bulbous head, the feel of it jumping into the attention got her instantly moist. She began rolling the condom down Quinn's shaft, swirling her tongue all the way to the base, which earned a thunderously loud, shaky intake of breath from Quinn. She quickly sucked upward until Quinn popped out of her mouth. She licked the head of her and slowly sucked until her cheeks hollowed. She gathered spit on the way down to the base. She repeated it slowly, flicking her tongue teasingly when she reached the tip again. Quinn was making hissing noises, the air was whistling past her bottom row of teeth and she sharply exhaled into the quiet room with each up stroke.

She was getting harder in her mouth with each rotation. She hooked her thumbs into the V of her open thighs and rubbed circular patterns into the place where the bends met. The harder Quinn got beneath her, the longer her strokes became. Quinn had been pumping lightly into her constantly moving mouth, groaning loudly while fisting strands of her hair between her fingertips and squeezing softly at the scalp. She spit slowly on her erect penis, humming as she deep throated her at full attention for the first time. Quinn's breath hitched and didn't release until she was fully out of her throat. She did it a second time, and squeezed her throat muscles, tickling the underside of Quinn's penis as she vibrated against everything that was in her mouth. The sounds pouring out of Quinn's mouth were a mantra of nonsense against her methodological strokes. She pulled back and repeated the motion until Quinn's hand was knotted fiercely in her hair. She felt Quinn strain her legs as her boots strained downward at the end of the bed. She continued deep throating her, and soon she began humming, and Quinn began shaking. She was a well-trained singer. She knew how to work her throat, her breathing, and her timing simultaneously. And without a gag reflex, she got many of her customers off just by the sight of them disappearing down her bottomless mouth. She wanted to push a finger inside of Quinn. She didn't know what would happen if she did… But she knew Quinn wouldn't last if she continued doing what she was. She felt her body vibrating as she got closer, the girl beneath her fighting with the bed sheets as she tried to stop her impending orgasm.

She abruptly pulled her out of her mouth. She ignored the whine of protest and proceeded to trail kisses down Quinn's inner thighs. She let a hand linger over the other part of her sex, staring in wonder as her fingers slid from hard shaft to a soft, damp slit. She smelled like strawberries the texture of her skin was silky against her fingertips. Quinn seemingly stopped breathing; Quinn's head was directed at her hand. She sat up and settled in her space between Quinn's thighs and she hesitated only a second before dipping her middle finger into Quinn. Quinn let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a strangled whimper, and she swallowed the saliva in her mouth as it began to water in anticipation. She marveled in the buck of Quinn's hips as she pushed her finger in all the way. She brought her hand to Quinn's member and stroked it in time with the rhythm her finger was making inside of her. Quinn's body was erratic, moving in different directions like it didn't know where to go.

She was still very hard and her penis standing at attention. It took one circular motion with her neck to have her all the way down her throat. The angle was odd, but she could breathe and flick her tongue and suck all the same. One hand steadied her body while the other pumped furiously into Quinn's slick sex. The smells and the sounds Quinn was emitting were the most enticing things she has ever experienced. The little "oh oh oh's" and the "mmmmphs" that flittered past her bit lip were building up a tension in her belly that she'd never experienced before. It wasn't quite like fire… it was more like smoke; it drifted in everywhere and it permeated in the air. She felt intoxicated. She could feel the ridges of Quinn's insides and the bulging veins in her shaft throbbing in her wet mouth. The "ah ah ah's" falling from the bottom of her throat triggered a pull in her stomach. Quinn was close. She might be too.

She appreciated Quinn's stamina. She was fingering and blowing a girl who was secretly hermaphroditic in a dark motel room while she was turned on by it. She hadn't been counting her minutes and she was getting lost in the tastes and textures of Quinn Fabray. Quinn was growling savagely as she plunged into her mouth; the motion of her strokes evident in the bumps her voice made in pitch. She growled again before squeezing the hair she had in her hand one final time. She felt the warmth spread inside the condom moments later. She felt Quinn's panting and her shaking and her shudders. She wiped her swollen mouth with the back of her hand. She pulled a few tissues from the box on the table beside the bed, and she cleaned Quinn up.

"Your timer isn't up yet…did I live up to my reputation?"

She hadn't been that genuinely surprised in a long time at who could walk through her motel room at night. But tonight, she'd been sincerely excited at the pleasant bombshell that landed on her bed.

"You definitely surpassed it. I'm spent."

Quinn's voice was raw and rough and tired. And the lazy smile spread across her face was warm on her spent cheeks. She stood up, noting that she'd ruined her underwear as she tip toed over to the bathroom door. She turned to where she knew Quinn would be, and cleared her throat.

"The key is on a very long chain attached further down the bedpost. Pull on it till the end. Remember the rules."

The timer went off.

She went in the bathroom and immediately locked the door. She went to her laptop and watched as Quinn unlocked herself. She pulled her pants up and tucked herself into her jeans before she stood up and pulled a memo pad from her hoodie pocket. She scribbled something in the dark, with the pad close to her face. She pulled wads of twenties out of her other pocket, and set it on top of the ripped out sheet of paper she'd scribbled on. She walked over to the door and briskly walked out into the night, without looking back. She watched her leave and counted to twenty before letting herself out of the bathroom. She ran to the door and locked it, and flipped on the light before walking over to the bedside table and grabbing the note Quinn left there.

"That was the best $700 I ever spent. If you ever want to explore this off the clock… come find me. I love how you sound humming around my cock, Berry."

She dropped the note onto the table. She'd dropped her façade. She let herself leak around the edges of her acting. There were plenty of undergrounds to Lima, Ohio. Most things that were supposed to be kept secret, were everyone's business. When she realized that she wouldn't be able to live her dreams because of her father's death and her monetary setbacks, she devised a plan that would finance her future in the summer before her freshman year of college. So far, she had no problems, and no one was wise to what she'd been getting herself involved in. But she knew one thing for sure:

She'd just fucked Quinn Fabray into keeping her secret a well-kept secret. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

End.


	2. Author's Note

Because of reviews I have decided to write a sequel. It's already posted; however, it is posted as a new story. I had problems uploading another chapter to this link, so if you just click on my profile, you can read The Double Royale: Off the Clock. I don't know if there will be more of this series… but I thought I'd finish off the Faberry proposition. Thanks for all your great reviews. I hope you guys like the sequel.

Jessica.


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